


Thwarted at Every Turn

by Babylawyer



Series: Law Students [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25746451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babylawyer/pseuds/Babylawyer
Summary: When Robin and Regina's kid-free night gets cancelled their efforts to get some alone time are thwarted at every turn
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood
Series: Law Students [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1075212
Comments: 42
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For OQPromptParty Prompt 159. Leather   
> Set 15 years out from the main story

Robin had sexted her all goddamn day, telling her all the ways he's going to fuck her in explicit detail _all day_ and suffice it to say, she's accomplished next to nothing. Tonight is the night, it's the culmination of what feels like weeks (but has only been one and a half) of anticipation. She's the one who suggested they wait until they had the house to themselves to fuck again, and she doesn't regret it, but she's damn impatient as she finishes up her docketing, trying and failing to keep the image of him screwing her on this desk out of her head. She's finally going to feel him, can cry out as loudly as she wants with no chance of interruption. She loves their children so much, wants to spend as much time with them as she can, but Roland has this knack of waking up screaming every time they start to get hot and heavy, so when Mary Margaret offered to take the kids for the night she wasn't about to say no.

Regina's been looking forward to this for days, right from the moment Mary Margaret asked if they could take Neal for the night when she goes in to have baby girl Nolan, and how she would of course repay the favour by taking the boys this weekend.

Roland hasn't been on an overnight before, and if it were anyone other than Mary Margaret Regina would be hesitant, but Neal was an equally fussy baby, so she knows her friend can handle Roland.

She can't even remember the last time she and Robin had the house to themselves, it was before Roland so at least a year, but likely longer because she would only leave Henry overnight with her father, and only if absolutely necessary.

It's no wonder she's regressed into a horny teenager that can't get her mind out of the gutter. She hasn't even left the office yet and she's already aching for it.

It didn't help that Robin cornered her in the shower that morning, started tugging at her nipples and slid one hand down to rub firmly at her clit. She knew he wouldn't give it to her, not with what they had planned and how she had stupidly spouted the virtues of denial and anticipation, but she had still let out a bereft cry when he stopped just as she was on the edge of orgasm. Then he proceeded to sext her all morning, and it had taken all of her control not to slip into the single-stall washroom and rub one out. It's not something she'd ever considered before, but he riled her up more and more, until she was hornier than she ever remembers being.

Earlier, she texted him her fantasy of him coming to her work, of them sneaking into the elevator and hitting the emergency stop button and unleashing it all, or of him waiting at her car and of them climbing in so she could ride him into oblivion, or of him coming into her office, slamming the door and drawing the shades and taking her quick and rough on the desk.

It's been a long day, and she wants nothing more than for him to sink into her and give her everything she's been craving for the past week and a half. Or god, his tongue, his fingers, anything, everything, she wants it soon, now, _fuck_.

His texts had died off around four, and she doesn't think anything of it as she gets on the subway, figuring he actually had work to do, or that he bowed out early and lost service on his way home, or was busy prepping for all the sex they are about to have.

But when she arrives home the scene is not at all what she expects. Her arousal is still burning hot from her probably poor choice to reread all of his messages on the subway ride over. A state that makes her very uncomfortable when her seven year old flings himself into her arms as he yells, "Mommy, you're home."

She sets down her purse and the dessert she'd brought home, then bends slightly so Henry can give her the broad hug he's reaching for. She looks over at Robin, arching a brow before turning back to her son, "I am, sweetheart, how was your day?"

"Friday is pizza day," Henry tells her as if she wasn't aware of that fact, "I had pizza and it was _so good_. Then Daddy made me nuggets."

"Oh, did he?"

"Yeah, but I hadta eat my broccolis first. Ooh, can we have ice cream, please, Mommy, please?"

In the spirit of a romantic night in, she'd bought chocolate-covered strawberries for her and Robin, and since that doesn't appear to be happening, and her son is definitely in need of more fruit and veggies today, she offers, "How about we have these instead?" opening the box for him so he can see inside.

"Yay! Now?"

"Not yet, sweetheart, Mommy needs to eat first."

"Aw _man_ ," Henry sighs, an expression he picked up from someone at school last week that's become his new favourite.

As she shrugs off her heels and takes off her coat, Henry prattles on about his day. He tells her how much math sucks, how he got a new book to read, and can they please please read it together tonight?

It's that last one that dashes her hopes of a night alone with her husband. Henry had been so excited about the prospect of sleeping at Mary Margaret's and there's no way he would have forgotten about it. Something must have come up, and Robin already broke the news to him. Damnit, she was really _really_ looking forward to a night with her husband. Now they'll have to wait until the kids are in bed, and she'll have to be quiet, which is not her favourite, but she needs the relief.

For now, she needs to keep her mind off of all that, let her arousal simmer out, then flare back up once they can actually do something about it.

She promises Henry she'll read him the story, and he runs off to his room to grab the book to show her. She reminds him not to run in the house and he slows, turning over his shoulder and looking sheepishly back at her.

She just shakes her head, not that Henry sees as he's already halfway up the stairs, taking them carefully now that he's been scolded.

She strolls into the other room where Robin and Roland are sitting, surprised her other son hadn't cried out for her as soon as she walked in the door. But he's preoccupied with his little xylophone she almost killed Mary Margaret for buying, something that actually isn't too loud or obnoxious. Roland only looks up when she bends to say hi and rubs his hair.

Roland's little arms reach out so she scoops him into her arms, holding him tight to her and pressing a kiss into his curls. Just like that, nearly all of her frustration over the change of plans is gone. Baby cuddles really do fix everything. She breathes in his scent, taking comfort in that baby smell she doesn't want him to grow out of.

Regina settles herself on the couch beside her husband and of course as soon as she does, Roland reaches for him. She knows he'll want to come back over to her shortly, so she passes him over.

Roland coos happily, a sound that always puts a smile on her face as Robin tells her, "As you probably already figured out, we're a full house tonight. Mary Margaret got caught up at work, one of her clients is having some crisis and she's going to be there all weekend."

Regina grimaces, she does not miss those days at all. Leaving Blanchard Partners was the best decision she's ever made, and while she knows things have changed now that Leopold's gone, the amount of work and the time that you are expected to put in at a firm like that is not worth the paycheque. She may make half as much at the firm she works at now, but she's in at nine and out at five, works from home once a week, and if anything ever comes with her children they are always accommodating.

Speaking of children, Roland has started to lean toward her and is babbling, "Ma Ma Ma," a clear signal he wants back in her arms.

Robin shakes his head as he passes her their son. Roland's indecisiveness and always wanting what he doesn't have until he has it can be irritating at times, but tonight it's cute.

As is how Henry flops down beside Robin to show them both his book, crawling onto Robin's lap so Regina can see it better.

It's not at all the night she'd planned, but with the whole family cuddled up on the couch, it's a great night. And Robin has this glint in his eye, one she can't look too closely at or she'll start having inappropriate thoughts, that tells her their night is still very much a go, just put on pause until their children are soundly asleep.

She and Robin share the Italian food they'd ordered in, giving pieces to the bottomless pit that is Henry lately and a few to Roland when he starts to feel left out.

Then they share those chocolate-covered strawberries as a family, a flavour combination Roland is not a fan of, his face contorting into this horrified expression that has them all laughing before he spits out his piece.

Thankfully, her husband has the good sense not to try and rile her up some more, knowing how she hates being turned on in front of the children, something they've both agreed feels awkward and creepy. It's unavoidable sometimes, like the time Henry came in while they were in the middle of the act—he'd had a scary dream and wanted to sleep with them—or when Roland's crying interrupts the action.

She's still far too sexually charged for the family night they are having, but she's able to push it aside and stops herself every time her thoughts start to go down the wrong path.

It doesn't help at all that Robin is incredibly sexy as a father. Unfairly, he has only gotten more attractive as they've aged and the rugged look he's adopted since they had Roland makes him look even better. All of that coupled with the pure love he shows their children, the way he holds them, whispers to them, and soothes them, has her _appreciating him_ more and more.

She doesn't know what it is about him as a father that's so hot to her, but it's there, and tonight she's more aware of it than ever.

She should not be thinking of his tongue as he bites into a strawberry, should not be thinking of kissing him as he rocks Roland back and forth, and should definitely not be thinking of fucking him as he holds out pajamas for Henry.

She should have taken a cold shower or something, because she is not at all in the right headspace for bedtime, her mind continually flitting to what happens once the kids are in bed instead of focusing on getting them to sleep.

Roland's eyes droop as she's feeding him, and as she places him in his crib, she sends up a silent prayer for him to fall asleep and stay asleep. His eyes stay shut as she slips her arms from underneath him, and she lets out a low sigh of relief before heading off to Henry's room for storytime.

Roland starts to whimper in the middle of Henry's story, and she hopes that this will be one of those times where Roland rolls over and goes back to sleep, but as his cries grow louder, she looks over at Robin, her head tilting toward the wall Henry's room shares with Roland's. Robin nods, ruffling Henry's hair as he tells him, "Goodnight."

Henry isn't happy with that, he wants both Mommy and Daddy to read him his story. For the most part, he's gotten used to having a little brother and having to share his parents' attention, but every now and then the jealousy pops up, and it seems tonight is one of those nights.

Henry starts to sulk, his lower lip jutting out as he sighs. Henry knows better than to whine, outgrew it fairly quickly once she made it clear she wouldn't stand for it, but she can tell he's fighting the impulse, which means he's overtired.

She reads him more of the story, attempting to stop at one point, but heading his plea for just one more chapter, somehow reading another after that before she insists on lights out.

Henry pouts again, but doesn't say anything as she tucks him, giving him a quick kiss before flicking off the light.

She peeks her head into Roland's room, to see what's going on and finds Robin rocking him in the chair.

"He's asleep," Robin whispers to her as she crosses the room. She plants a kiss on both of their foreheads, barely touching Roland's for fear of waking him. "I just want to wait a few more minutes before I put him in the crib, make sure he's really out."

"That's a good plan," she says leaning against the wall, content to watch the two of them cuddle.

"You know what else is a good plan, love…" Robin starts in this low tone that lights her right back up. "Why don't you go to the bedroom, strip the bed, then yourself and wait for me."

"Robin," she hisses, even though she is enjoying it, "not in front of Roland."

"He's asleep."

She rolls her eyes in lieu of a response, then leans down to graze a kiss over Roland's warm cheek.

"See you shortly," Robin says with a smirk, eyeing her body suggestively. She knows exactly what he wants to see, and she feels herself growing warm under his gaze.

All that teasing from earlier, all the anticipation revs back up. She was distracted from it before, worried it all flickered out, but it turns out the embers were still burning strong, waiting to be stoked. Just the vague suggestion of sex enough to set her back ablaze.

She's getting wet just thinking about all the delicious things her husband is about to do to her, while she pushes back the sheets and strips off her clothes. She doesn't do exactly as asked though, had picked out a little strappy leather number for their night that leaves nothing to the imagination. The cutouts could cover her nipples with adjustment but she leaves them out, knowing he wants to see her.

She's so keyed up already, this is going to be _unreal._

She's sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, legs hanging down demurely crossed as she waits for him.

She gets so caught up in how Robin's describing his tongue on her clit in their texts she almost misses when he comes into the room, looking up just in time to see his eyes widen as he sucks in a breath.

"You are so sexy, my love," he growls and by the time he reaches her he's half hard. It thrills her that he's as desperate as she is—not that it's really a surprise since they've been teasing each other all day.

He claims her mouth in a fierce passionate kiss, one that has her thighs clenching as she parts them for him. He steps between them, that bulge firming up between them as he kisses her harder.

He's far too dressed for these pent up desperate kisses. She wants him inside her, now, might even be wet enough already.

She pulls him down onto the bed as she tugs at his shirt, pulling it over his head and flinging it off toward the hamper.

Robin's hands are roaming, doing delicious things that make her shiver as he starts to attack her neck.

God, that's _good_. This is what she needed all day.

One of those roaming hands slides down between her thighs, through the straps, and he's groaning as he discovers just how wet she is. It's a pleasant surprise that her body is cooperating, but a long day of sexting and desperation seems to be the key.

Robin's thumb rolls gently over her clit and she gasps at the friction where she needs it most. This is what she has needed all day, and she moans softly, hating that she has to choke it back as he firms up his swirls.

She wants to scream the rafters down because this is fantastic, she's been on edge all day and this is perfect. She could come so easily from this, and she can tell from the smirk Robin shoots her that he knows it too.

He loves when she's like this, all riled up and desperate. It doesn't happen all that often anymore, not having the time for it that they used to.

She knows he loves to hear it so she whispers, "Fuck, that's good."

He pants lowly, "Christ Regina, god, you feel so good. I almost thought we wouldn't get to have this."

As if on cue, she hears a cry through the wall and though she doesn't actually believe in jinxes, she's about ready to kill Robin for saying that. Logically she knows it would have happened either way, but come on, why tempt fate like that?

Robin sighs, lowering his head to her chest as he hopefully suggests, "Maybe it will be okay."

It's not likely, Roland is wailing now and one of them needs to go check on him before he wakes Henry. She urges Robin off of her, getting up and grabbing for the robe that hangs on a hook at the front of the closet for this very reason.

She leaves Robin hard and aching in their bed (she's not doing much better herself) as she goes to check on Roland, that radar he seems to have for them trying to get it on thwarting them once again.

But all her frustration leaves when she sees him, his cheeks are all red, and there are tears in his little brown eyes that make her heart clench. This isn't the ordinary wake up, something is wrong, and she knows it.

Sure enough, when she grabs him, he's warm, too warm. She'd noticed he was warm when she kissed him goodnight, but she hadn't thought much of it. She didn't think he was overly heated, but now with her hand on his forehead, he feels hot and she's sure he has a fever, poor boy. She rubs his back as she takes him into the bathroom, reaching into the medicine cabinet to pull out the baby thermometer.

She watches with bated breath as the numbers climb up, finally stopping and beeping at 99.9. While she knows that's not technically a fever, it's concerning and she knows now why her poor sweet boy wasn't able to sleep. She does everything she can to make him comfortable, a cold compress on his forehead, lighter pajamas, and a feeding. She barely breastfeeds any more since she went back to work last month, just morning and night, and it's really more of a comfort thing than a means of sustenance at this point.

She settles them in the rocking chair, and that's where Robin finds them, her rocking back and forth as she holds Roland close and whispers soothing words.

"Is he okay?" Robin asks.

She nods but cautions, "He's sick, has got a bit of a temperature, we'll have to keep an eye on it."

"How much?"

"99.9."

"Could it be more teeth coming in?"

She shrugs offering a simple, "Maybe."

"I'll make sure all the rings are ready to go if you need 'em."

She smiles up at him, whispering, "Thank you."

"Anything for my babies."

She shakes her head playfully, "I am not your baby."

Robin laughs, "Whatever you say, _baby_." Then he ruffles Roland's hair as he whispers, "Feel better soon, little man."

Robin turns to her, giving her a soft peck as he offers to take over once he's finished downstairs.

She shakes her head no. "I'm good here, you go to sleep, I'm going to be here for a while."

"Do you need anything else, love?"

"Can you take that?" she asks, tilting her head toward the not-quite-a-bra she'd shed to feed Roland earlier.

He nods and grabs for it. "Of course, anything else?"

She shakes her head again, looking down at Roland who finally seems to be settling, "No, we're good here."

"Alrighty then, let me know if that changes. I love you both." He gives them each a soft kiss goodbye before turning to head out of the room.

"Oh, and darling," he says, hovering in the doorway, "rain check on those plans, okay?"

She smiles, telling him that sounds lovely before focusing back on their son.

She rocks and rocks in that chair until her eyes start to go heavy, and she reluctantly moves from the comfortable position, standing slowly so as not to jostle her son.

She gets him into the crib and watches him, waiting for any sign the transition has woken him up, but he stays still under her gaze.

So she heads to her bed, stopping to look in Henry's room, finding him dead asleep as he should be. He's kicked all of the covers off, so she slides in in the darkness, pulling his sheet over him carefully.

Then she makes her way to her room, where her husband is also sleeping soundly, and she ditches the panties, then the robe at the foot of the bed, and cuddles up into his warm skin to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fulfills OQPromptParty Prompts:  
> 13\. -"Why do I even bother with you?"..."You'd miss my face too much if you didn't"  
> 25\. Person A is playing a game with one or both of the boys, and Person B secretly watches them.  
> 125\. OQ teasing each other (non-sexually)

Regina is sleeping naked next to him, and that's just unfair. He wants her badly, but Roland was up half the night and Henry will no doubt be up soon.

It wasn't as hard to find time for themselves when it was just Henry, but now that they have two boys, they somehow have ten times the interruptions.

He would not trade their incredible children for the world, but damn does he ever need some alone time with his wife. It's been a couple of weeks, and much longer since they had true alone time. They were both looking forward to the opportunity to take their time, to let go and to be as loud as they wanted.

Sex that isn't rushed foreplay and muffled moans is a luxury. Sex that has absolutely no chance of interruption is a godsend.

They may have gone a little overboard with the anticipation, with all the sexting and planning out their night, but god was it ever going to be good.

He'd woken up hard for her, and the feel of her naked skin against him coupled with all of the teasing from yesterday has him ridiculously horny for her.

But that's not a need he can address now, all he can do is ensure she gets a decent sleep. Though he'd like nothing more than to roll over and ravish her, he has to save it. There's no way he could wake her up and get them off before Henry got up, it would just lead to even more sexual frustration for them. Plus she needs her sleep more than an orgasm. He loves her too much to put his need ahead of hers for a decent sleep.

Maybe they'll get lucky and it will be just a tooth coming in, so they can pawn their children off on Mal or John for an hour or two, just enough time to satiate their desires, and shower to remove the evidence.

He should have gotten her off in the shower yesterday, should have gotten them both off. That was a rookie mistake, he should know better than to waste an opportunity like that, but he'd wanted her all riled up, wanting him all day, and look where that got them.

Mary Margaret promised to make it up to them, and as she's off of work starting next Thursday, he knows she'll deliver on that—unless of course she delivers first, which would be just their luck recently.

He sighs as he looks at his wrist again, as if somehow checking the time again will turn back the clock. It's 7:05 and Henry will be up any minute now.

He reluctantly untangles himself from his far too sexy wife and gets himself out of bed, so he can ensure the children don't wake her.

* * *

Roland is grumpy today. He woke up far too early for how late he was up and is still sporting that low grade fever from last night. Robin checked on him after Henry got up, managed to catch him before he could wake up Regina.

Roland has the sniffles, had sneezed a couple of times in the morning, then sported the cutest little confused expression over what had just occurred. It's not the first time he's sneezed in his life, but he clearly didn't remember that. He made a face similar to the first time he had a lemon, and Robin had reached for his phone far too belatedly and missed the moment.

The sneezing just made him grumpier, and a grumpy Roland is only soothed by cuddles, so Robin's had him strapped to his chest for most of the morning. It was only when Regina came down that he took a break, passing Roland off so she could feed him and Robin could go take a shower.

Now Roland's half asleep again against his chest, and this is one of those times he's grateful his son is so tiny. He was 5lbs 4oz at birth and is nineteen pounds now, a milestone Henry hit by seven months. The sling distributes enough of Roland's weight that Robin could stay like this most of the day, and probably will.

He doesn't know when Regina finally turned in last night, but he knows it was late, and it's clear that she didn't sleep well.

She's yawning as she sits with Henry, listening to him chatter on as he colours in his Spiderman book. She's usually much more engaged with it, and Henry can tell, is frowning at her, then says, "Mommy, listen."

"Sorry, sweetheart. I'm listening now."

"I wanna fly."

She raises a brow at that, chuckling a little. "Oh, you do?"

"I wanna have webbies come outta my hands and fly, can I?"

Regina yawns again, before telling him that no he can't do that.

Somehow thinking his father will give him a different answer, Henry turns to Robin and asks him.

Robin shakes his head and reminds him, "Mommy said no. And even if she didn't, only Spiderman can do that. It's his power, no one else's."

"Aw, man," Henry sighs overdramatically, using his new catchphrase that has only just stopped making Robin laugh every time he uses it.

"Daddy? Daddy?" Robin looks back over at Henry, "I wanna be Spiderman."

He should have known that was coming and walks closer to admire the drawing as he reminds him, "Spiderman is the only Spiderman."

"But, but, but, I wanna be him, _please_."

Robin rubs Henry's back. "Sorry, buddy."

He takes a look at the page Henry's been colouring, he's getting better at it, isn't in the lines, but he is getting closer.

"What if I got a spider?"

He's not sure if this is still about Spiderman or if Henry has again decided a spider would make a good pet. "What?"

"If I have a spider, then I'm Spiderman?"

He can appreciate that logic, but dashes his son's hopes again with a, "Not quite."

"That's no fun."

Regina sniffles, then sneezes beside Henry, and Robin worries she's coming down with whatever Roland has. That's always how it seems to go when one of the children is sick, they'll be down for a few days then take one of their parents out for a week.

Robin must make a face because after her second sneeze (she never sneezes just once), because she looks at him pointedly and says, "It's allergy season, relax."

"Could Roland have allergies?" he asks. As someone who's never had seasonal allergies, he doesn't know when they normally start. He hadn't even known Regina had them until they moved in together and he'd noticed the bottle of Reactin in the medicine cabinet.

"Maybe?"

Henry must decide they are both boring because he switches to a new page in his book and grabs for another crayon, focusing down on the page.

"I thought you were the allergy expert," he teases Regina, and he's not at all surprised when she rolls her eyes at him.

"Oh yes, because I have allergies that automatically makes _me_ the expert."

He shrugs before leaning onto Henry's chair. "Well, more expert than me."

"I mean that is sort of a given. I'm more expert than you at a lot of things."

"Yeah, like allergies and braces."

She scowls at him, and he's tempted to take his phone out and take a photo of it, but she hates when he does that. He loves his candid photos of her but she is not a fan, preferring he saves that impulse for the kids.

"Oh shut it, you," she mutters, "you with your perfect skin, perfect eyesight and perfect genes—"

He can't resist a cheeky, "Don't forget my incredible good looks—"

She narrows her eyes at him and shakes her head. "Why do I even bother with you?"

"You'd miss my face too much if you didn't."

Her brows arch at that but he knows she's amused. "You sure think highly of yourself."

"Mommy, Daddy, look!" Henry grouses, not at all happy they took their attention off of him.

"Very pretty, sweetheart," Regina says, then she yawns again and Robin urges her to go take a nap.

"But I don't wanna nap," Henry grumbles.

"Not you buddy, Mommy."

Henry looks up at Regina with wide eyes, "Mommy's gonna nap?"

She nods, "I'm really tired. Your brother kept me up late last night."

"But naps are so boring."

She chuckles, "Maybe to you, but one day you'll see that naps are actually great."

Henry shakes his head vehemently, his tone surprisingly firm as he exclaims, "Nope. _Never_."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

She gets up out of the chair but Henry stops her, "Wait, Mommy, I didn't kiss you goodnight."

She leans down and Henry gives her a wet, sloppy kiss that she waits until she's out of his sight to wipe off. She mouths at Robin to wake her if she needs him, and he mouths back that he will, though he has absolutely no intention of doing so.

He settles into Regina's former seat adjusting a mostly asleep Roland into a more comfortable position, then attempts to keep Henry occupied and at a reasonable volume so his mom and his brother can sleep.

* * *

When Regina wakes up she feels slightly better, still sluggish, still could use a full night of uninterrupted sleep, but better.

The house is surprisingly quiet, and her curiosity over what Robin did to make that happen outweighs the general laziness she's feeling.

She'd slept in his clothes, a baggy t-shirt and that old pair of sweats with the drawstring that are basically hers now. She changes into one of her tank tops but she leaves on the pants because it's the weekend and her kid is sick, so who cares?

When she comes downstairs, Henry and Robin are sitting on the couch, Roland is on Robin's lap, reaching for the cards in his hand.

She's not sure what they are playing, but Henry is engrossed in the game, focusing intently on his cards, frowning as he looks from them over at Robin's hand, then down at the pile on the cushion between them.

"Gimmie a one."

"An ace," Robin corrects, "And go fish."

"Aw, man," Henry sighs as he reaches into the pile, but then his eyes light up. It's a good thing Go Fish isn't a bluffing game (though he has been known to try and cheat every now and again, his face always giving him away), because it's clear he got something he wanted.

She's hovering in the doorway, unnoticed by any of her boys. She doesn't want to interrupt so she just watches as they play the game she usually finds extremely boring, but today is oddly fascinating.

It's not really the game, it's them, it's watching her husband interact with their sons, watching how Roland keeps trying to grab for the cards in Robin's hand instead of the deck he could actually reach on the cushion if he tried. Watching how Henry's face lights up every time he gets to take a card from his father, and the gleeful way Henry squeals 'Go fish' when Robin asks for the wrong cards.

It's when Henry drops his cards a second time—he has too many for his little hands to hold—that she finally makes her presence known. She moves into the room and settles down beside him so she can assist him with his fist full of cards.

As she does, she helps Henry sort his cards so all of the matching cards are together, smiling as her son curls up onto her lap.

Their cuddle doesn't last all that long, with her help (and no doubt Robin's as well) Henry wins the game, then Roland's sniffling sadly and she takes him upstairs to see if she can get him to nap. It's a little late for a nap, but he didn't sleep well, and he needs it.

She rocks and rocks him in the rocking chair, but as soon as she tries to move him to the crib, he wakes up. He needs the nap, so she texts Robin to grab her book and her glasses as she lets Roland sleep on her chest.

He stays asleep for over an hour and she's glad for her book, even though she wasted the first half an hour or so aimlessly scrolling through social media.

It's nearing dinner time when Roland does wake up, and she's glad for it because she was getting sleepy and the gentle rocking was lulling her, and she was starting to have trouble staying awake.

She should try and rain check the sex plans with Robin, but as she prepares dinner for them all, all she can think about is knocking out early, something that's not likely to happen because Roland's still sniffly and cranky.

His nap helped a bit, but it will probably make it harder to get him back to sleep, and that is not something she's looking forward to. Roland is hard to put to bed at the best of times, but when he's overtired it's always worse.

She'd hoped he'd grow out of it, that he'd come to love sleep the way Henry did as a toddler, but that hasn't happened yet, maybe someday.

Though she doesn't want to admit it, her arousal fizzled out when she realized Roland wasn't feeling well. His illness left her on edge and worried, unlocked her overprotective helicopter mom impulses. She kept thinking he was going to wake up again, worrying that he was going to get sicker and it kept her up long after Roland had fallen asleep, which ended up working out when he woke again at four am.

She had really been looking forward to a night alone with her husband, and they do need it, but she's happy Mary Margaret cancelled now that Roland is sick.

She knows Robin will understand, but she still feels bad that all that work he put in, all that tension he built up over the day just vanished. It's gone, and she's far too tired to try and get it back tonight.

She is half asleep as they watch Moana after dinner, and it's Robin who suggests she turn in early, and that he will handle bedtime. Not one to argue with more sleep, she kisses all of her boys goodnight and heads upstairs.

* * *

Roland seems okay by Monday, but his wife takes the day off anyway just to be sure and works from home on Tuesday in case the daycare calls.

They didn't, which gives him an idea. Mary Margaret is taking the kids Saturday night, assuming all is well with them, so they could wait until then, but he also has no reason to be in his office Thursday, had planned to be on _do not disturb_ so he could get a factum done, which is easier done at home.

If he can just talk his wife into another work from home day, they can have a lunchtime rendezvous.

The kids are both in bed when he makes his proposal, his wife in the bathroom doing her nightly routine.

He plants a kiss on that sensitive spot on her neck then trails up to her ear. "I was thinking, Mrs. Locksley, what if you stayed home on Thursday and I ravished you at lunch? Would you like that?"

He sees her eyes widen in the mirror, feels her sharp inhale of breath and knows he's intrigued her.

She arches her neck toward him so he kisses back down it and she hums pleasantly before responding. "That could work, but why wait until then?"

She presses her body more firmly into his and he groans as she rocks her fine ass against him.

"Why indeed," he murmurs, grabbing her hips suggestively. Her hands cover his, then she's turning his hands moving to her ass, hers to his neck, her lips finding his for a deep sensual kiss.

"Take me to bed, Mr. Locksley," she purrs when the kiss breaks, and yes, please.

They make their way to their bed amidst a slew of kisses. They haven't lost a stitch of clothing but he's already hard, and by the way she's panting he thinks she's in a similar state.

As much he wants to really enjoy her, to rile her up until she can't take anymore they really don't have time for that, and with all the interruptions they've had he's not about to take his chances. They can take things slow on Saturday.

He strips her quickly, throwing her clothes behind them onto the floor, something she hates but appears to be letting slide today.

His clothes join hers on the floor, and she lays down onto the bed pulling him down with her. They scoot up while kissing, his one elbow bracing his weight as his right hand travels down her body.

She gasps as he sinks a finger inside her, then another, crooking them up toward her g-spot as his palm grinds against her clit.

"Oh, that's good, yeah like that," she sighs in this way that goes straight to his cock.

"Fuck, I need you, darling," he pants, then her hand is sliding between them, is on him, tugging slowly and god is it ever good.

He busies his mouth, sampling her neck as his fingers thump inside her the way she needs, getting her ready for him.

Her strokes are slow but sure, enough to relieve some pressure, but not enough to build him up and he's grateful for that because he's not sure how long he'll be able to last with how badly he needs her right now.

Then she lets out this moan when he firms up the movement of his fingers and it makes his cock throb.

"Fuck, love I need—"

"Fuck me, Robin," she breathes and thank god she's not wanking him anymore because he moans and his cock twitches and throbs in response to the sensual sound.

He is so far gone, he doesn't know how he's going to last long enough to get her off, but he's going to give it his damn best.

To help with that, he rolls off of her and urges her onto her knees. This position is one of their favourites, it gets her off fast, and her ass is fucking fantastic from this angle.

He grips her hip in one hand, his cock in the other and starts to sink into her but she groans uncomfortably. She feels wet enough, but he knows that noise, knows this isn't quite enough and he slips out of her as she shifts forward reaching into the nightstand for the lube.

When they are all slick and slippery the bottle gets tossed on top of the nightstand and sinks into her with a deep groan.

She gasps softly, "Oh fuck, yes that's it," when he's all the way and it has him groaning in response. He wants to hear her, misses when they could be as loud as they wanted, but fuck this is good too. This is what he needed, god, he's missed this.

He's fucking her, hard and fast and it's amazing, she's so warm, so slick, so tight and she keeps making these soft sounds that tell him she's enjoying it just as much as he is.

He fucks her hard, deeper, and he can feel the tension starting to wind in his gut, as her hand reaches for her clit.

"Oh, yes, love, do that, get—"

His words are cut off by a flash of lightning and a loud crack of thunder that makes them both freeze.

Fuck, fuck _no_. Henry is terrified of thunder. Maybe he's still asleep, maybe they'll get lucky and it will just be that one clap. If it's not a storm they should be okay.

She turns her head to look at him and nods when they lock eyes. He thrusts once, then twice, starting back up a rhythm until thunder cracks again.

The universe is conspiring against them, there is no other explanation.

Henry yells out a frightened, "Mommy!" from his bedroom, and they disentangle themselves, Regina throwing on a nightdress just in time for Henry to bust into the room.

Robin's hidden himself under the covers, belatedly noticing the bottle of lube is still sitting on the nightstand, shit. He can't reach for it without drawing attention to it.

Henry doesn't notice that or the strewn clothes, his fear all-consuming. He's shaking, his stuffed lion pressed up against his chest, lower lip wobbling.

Regina scoops him up into her arms, whispering soft words he can't make out, one's that help to calm Henry. She's an amazing mother, he knows she doesn't see it that way, but she is.

Robin is not at all surprised when the next words out of Henry's mouth are, "Can I sleep with you guys?"

But god, no, not now, not when he's naked and still all lubed up. His erection is mostly gone, but this is not a state he wants to be in with his son in bed with them.

Bless his wife, she suggests they go back to Henry's room and Henry agrees, but only if Mommy sleeps with him, which they both knew was coming. Regina sends him a sympathetic smile then they are off and he's cursing this ridiculous string of bad luck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For OQPromptParty Prompt 204. Robin + Regina + bathtub  
> They finally get their alone time

Thursday finds him sleeping in so late that his wife has to wake him up so he doesn't miss work time. He didn't set an alarm, because he thought he'd get up with her, thought he'd flirt with her shamelessly and build up the anticipation, but he hadn't counted on half-waking up then rolling over and falling back asleep.

It sets him behind on his day, and his plans, but it's fine, he may have to work a little longer into the evening, but the upcoming afternoon delight should help fuel his mid-day productivity.

Regina's in the office and he's set up in the dining room. She has to walk by him on her way to get coffee, and he decides he can flirt with her when she gets her next cup.

So he does just that. She comes down for a refill at eleven and he flirts with her shamelessly, starts telling her how he's going to kiss down her chest, then take up residence between her thighs, go down on her until she comes, then fuck her until she comes again.

He watches as her eyes darken and her cheeks heat, then she's stepping in, leaning over his chair so she can whisper, "Why don't you come do all those things now?"

He pulls her down onto his lap as he remarks, "Oh, you naughty girl, suggesting skeeving off your workday like that to get laid."

"Well, not to be too practical but I do have a meeting at one," she pauses to kiss him softly, "so it's probably better to take an early lunch over a later one anyway…"

She doesn't need to say more, he's at a good spot to take a break—why delay their satisfaction. They've had enough of that this week. He pulls her in for a deeper kiss, his hands roaming her back, hers fisting in his hair.

He'd gotten himself off during the thunderstorm, had taken advantage of his already lubed up cock and rubbed one out to the memories of what they had been doing, to a fantasy of them continuing. It was a much needed release but has done nothing to curb his desire for her.

Still though, he feels a little guilty that she's gone without (to the best of his knowledge anyway) so he's determined to do right by her with a good thorough round of oral.

It's been a while since he's gotten her off like that, when it wasn't just foreplay to lead up to the main event. There was a time when he almost always got her off before the sex started but that was before full-time jobs, before children and sleep deprivation and never having long periods of alone time.

But they have that now (or sort of do), and he's about to take advantage.

His work is spread out on this side of the table, but there's plenty of room to spread her out on the other end, so when she stands and grabs his hand to help him up, he follows, but only as far as the corner of the table. Then he surprises her by pulling her into his arms for another heated kiss, kneading her ass as he presses himself into her.

"Mmm, Robin," she sighs as he kisses along her jawline, "Oh, that's good, but, mmm, bedroom?"

"We're all alone, my love. I think I'll take you right here."

She gasps at that, then louder when he scoops her up and places her onto the table. Her legs hook around him and they kiss and kiss until they are both breathless.

He strips off her top, pleased to discover she's gone braless.

Then he descends down, down her neck, her chest, lets his tongue graze over her nipples in that gentle way that makes goosebumps flare. She's so sensitive there now, can only take small soft touches, nothing firm and no sucking—that action is reserved for their son and is the last thing he wants her thinking of as he does this.

He slides over a chair, sinking into it as he goes lower and lower, kissing down her stomach, his intent clear.

He looks up to see her watching wide eyed with anticipation, lifts her hips for him when he reaches her pants and undoes them. He slides them and her underwear off together, then parks himself between her thighs, resting them on the armrests of his chair.

They don't have all day but he's taking advantage of this opportunity to linger. He starts to trail kisses up her thighs, making her squirm and moan as his tongue flicks over sensitive skin.

He's a couple of inches from her sex when she begs, "Robin, please, I need your mouth," and he shivers at the erotic sound.

"Oh, do you?" he asks before moving to her other thigh, snickering at the plaintive mewl she lets out.

"Yes, fuck. Please, I need it so badly. I'm dying here, please." He nips gently at her inner thigh and she gasps, "OH, god."

"Fuck, _please_ ," she begs again, and he decides he's tortured her enough.

He licks at the hinge of her thigh then kisses in and she moans loudly before he's even reached her sex. God, he loves when she's like this. Loves when she can be loud when he can draw out this sexy as sin sounds from her.

The moan she lets out when he covers her clit with his mouth is glorious as is the one she makes when he sucks her between his lips.

Her hand comes to his head, pressing him further into her as she pleads, "Don't stop," and he has no intention of doing so.

He loves doing this for her, doesn't get enough chances to do this anymore and it's a real shame. She deserves to be showered in pleasure, to feel this all the time.

To make it better, he brings his fingers into the mix, thrusting them up toward the spongy spot, knowing he's got it by the way she shudders and gasps.

Her thighs are closing in on his head and he uses his one hand to keep her spread open for him as he feasts.

She's getting close now, he can tell by the way her hips have started to rock into him involuntarily, how she's folding in on herself and her cries have grown sharper and more delirious.

Dimly, he hears Regina's phone going off upstairs, and he's not sure whether she just doesn't hear it through the haze of her pleasure or if she's ignoring it, but either way he follows suit.

"Oh, god, I'm _so close,_ don't stop. Robin, god, don't stop."

He won't, nothing can stop him now, he's going to get her off right here, right now.

But then his phone rings, but not his usual ringtone, no, it's the one reserved for potential emergencies, his ringtone for Regina, the daycare and the school. The one that he cannot ignore.

_Fuck_.

He gets up, leaving a bereft Regina and managing to get to his phone on the very last ring.

"Robin Locksley," he breathes heavily, then listens. It's Henry's school—their son has peed his pants and needs a change of clothes. The person informs him they'd called Regina first but she hadn't called back, and he assures them he'll take care of it.

Regina's still perched on the table, legs crossed now, facing him, waiting for him to get off the phone, then asks, "What happened?"

"I need to bring Henry clothes, he had an accident. I'm sorry, love."

He goes over to give her a quick peck and she makes him groan when she pulls him down for a deep open mouthed kiss.

She pouts as he pulls away, but gets up off the table and heads toward the stairs with him.

When they reach the top, he asks suspiciously, "Where are you going?"

She's still naked and he knows without her cheeky, "To the bedroom," that she's about to go finish herself off without him.

He pouts, "Without me," trying to keep his mind from the hot image of his wife getting herself off.

"Sorry, _Mr. Locksley,_ " she breathes as she turns to head down the hall, her ass swaying deliciously, "but that's the third time you've left me wet and needy."

"Not intentionally," he grumbles as he follows behind.

She softens as she turns back to him, hovering in their doorway. "I know, I would stop and save it for you, but I have that meeting and I can't be distracted." She smirks at him, "But don't worry, I will be thinking of you the whole time."

God, this is not helping him lose his boner, not at all, but he's a glutton for punishment and he winks at her as he suggests, "Take pics, or better, take a video."

"You'd like that wouldn't you," she muses and he wonders if she's actually considering it. They've traded explicit material before, he still has the pictures and videos from that semester they were long distance, but it's been a long time since his wife sent him a nude. He knows she's self-conscious now, thinks that having their children ruined her body, but it's so far from the truth, and he tackles every chance he can to try and dispel that notion.

"I would give _everything_ for it," he tells her earnestly.

"Mmm maybe, now hurry up and get your ass to school, our son is waiting. The sooner you go, the more likely you are to get a reward."

He yells, "Yes, ma'am," over his shoulder as he rushes into Henry's room and he hears her snickering as their door shuts.

* * *

When Robin arrives at the school, two pictures and a video have made their way onto his phone, and he's itching to watch them but not now, not yet.

He waits until he's delivered the clothing, talks to an embarrassed Henry who's insisting he didn't pee, that he must have sat in something, that someone else did it. Henry's lying, Robin can tell, Henry's a terrible liar, always contorts his face in these weird ways or goes completely blank, both of which always give him away. Normally, Robin would call him on it, but Henry's extremely embarrassed, so he assures his son there's nothing wrong with having an accident, lies and says it happened to him in second grade, too, and manages to put a smile on Henry's face even though he's still denying it was him that peed.

Robin almost forgets about his gift, but when he gets back in the car he goes to text Regina and all thoughts leave him. He should not look at these in the school parking lot, definitely shouldn't watch the minute and a half long video she sent him, but he can't resist.

He stares at the first photo, a shot of her naked sitting up in their bed, her nipples pert and hard, and he _wants her_. The second shot is of her lower half, and it makes his mouth go dry as he takes in the toy between her legs.

The video is the stuff of wet dreams, he watches it on silent even though he's alone in the car, watches as she pans her phone from between her legs up to her face, watches as her face contorts and she moans and moans, throwing her head back and arching as she comes, then sags, opening her eyes to smile at him blissfully as the video ends.

Holy hell, that was hot as fuck. He saves it and the pictures, immediately stashing them away in the private folder for a later viewing before deleting them from their text history.

He sends her a 'God bless you' and a promise to make it up to her later, then heads home, trying to keep his mind on the road and not his incredibly sexy wife.

* * *

He's still working at ten pm when she comes to check on him. He'd taken the office when she'd finished up for the day, and had worked through dinner and bedtime, but still isn't done. He'd been distracted all afternoon, kept thinking back on their dining room rendezvous and those delicious pictures and that video. Now he's paying for his distraction.

He has another hour or so to go, and tells her that when she asks as she passes him a glass of scotch.

She sighs, and he knows what she's going to say before it even leaves her lips, so he saves her the trouble. "You're going to bed."

She nods, "I'm sorry, I just have a big day tomorrow."

"It's okay, love. I can survive one more night."

"What about two?"

He narrows his eyes and parrots back, "What about two?"

"Let's just wait until Saturday night. Then we can be as loud as we want with no chance of interruption. With how our luck's been going, something will happen tomorrow night if we try, and we know we have Saturday to ourselves…"

"With how our luck is going, Mary Margaret will probably go into labour," he grouses, though he takes her point.

Regina laughs at that, "I'll tell Mary Margaret to keep that kid in, how about that?"

He chuckles too, "Sounds like a plan."

Regina leans in, steals a kiss from him then whispers goodnight, wishing him a productive night and hoping he doesn't stay up too late.

He doesn't, it takes another two hours but then he has a finished product he'll edit tomorrow before submitting and retires to their bedroom, thinking it's a good idea he didn't ask her to stay up.

She's out like a light and so gorgeous in her peaceful state. He can't resist snapping a quick photo of it then he kisses her forehead and climbs in with her.

* * *

They are both waiting for the other shoe to drop as they leave their kids at Mary Margaret's after dinner on Saturday night.

Both boys had gone down easily on Friday night and both slept in, something that never happens. She and Robin easily could have indulged this morning but were both too wary to do so.

They're alone now and Regina's still wary, keeps waiting for her phone to ring, for Mary Margaret to call and say they have to come get the boys for whatever reason.

Her mental state is not at all conducive to the fun sex-filled night they are supposed to have, but with how things have been going, she can't be blamed for worrying about interruptions, can she?

She feels a bit bad she didn't wait for tonight, that she'd gotten herself off on Thursday afternoon, but she was so close when that call came in, and was still aching for it as Robin told her about Henry's accident (that he still won't admit was him). She needed the relief and it felt _amazing_ but it would have been better with him. She did record it for him—feeling ridiculous and self-conscious for the first few seconds until the pleasure overcame her—but it's not the same.

If this were last Friday, they'd be all over each other, but they hadn't wanted to risk sparking that level of desperate arousal lest they be thwarted again.

This is not how she pictured their night alone, both of them gawking at each other awkwardly instead of getting down to it, but Regina doesn't know how to reset the mood.

"I, um, I don't really know how to start this," she tells him. "I could go change?"

"That leather set was hot as fuck, but why don't we ease into it. We have _all night_ after all."

Something about his tone and the sentiment has her cheeks warming. She knows they'll have sex and lots of it, but the way Robin is looking at her makes her wonder if she can handle what he wants. While they've had many a sex marathon over the years, gone are the days of multiple orgasms every time, and her stamina is lacking.

But they don't have to get their kids until lunch time tomorrow. They can ravage each other into the morning and still end up with a decent night's sleep.

"How exactly are we easing into it?" she asks, stepping into his space and watching as he inhales sharply as her lips graze over his neck.

"Mmm, well, I was thinking, a nice bath to start, relax us both and take our mind off of everything."

That's… "Perfect."

He takes her hand and leads her up the stairs. "If you don't mind, I'd like to do the honours of stripping you."

That's more than fine with her, "Only if I can do the same."

He smirks, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

God, she loves this man, has for fifteen years now, but it still strikes her from time to time how lucky she is to be with him, to love him, to have their family. She met the love of her life at twenty-three years old, and now they are nearing their forties, just as in love, if not more.

They've been through more than their fair share of heartbreak and loss, but they've gotten through it all together and will get through anything else the same way.

Even fifteen years into their relationship, Robin can still make her go all mushy, can still have her distracted and dopey over his actions, can still whisper a dirty sentiment in her ear and have her immediately riled and distracted.

There's a lot less sex now, but they were never just sex—even when they were supposed to be. She's never loved anyone like she loves him, like she loves their children, and the life they've built together.

A bath together is perfect, a way to reconnect physically in an intimate way over a sexual one (or knowing him, both).

He takes his time stripping her of her boring sweater and slacks, pulls the sweater over her head oh so slowly, then runs his hands up and down the skin he exposed, gentle, intimate touches that have her smiling softly.

He does the same when her pants are off, runs his hands as far down her legs as he can, spending more time than necessary on her ass, his hands drawn there like they always are.

When he pops her bra off, he grazes his fingertips down the sides of each breast, making goosebumps flare from the subtle pleasure of his delicate touch.

He sinks to his knees to slide down her underwear, oh so carefully, slipping them down her thighs, then running his hands up her legs, making her shiver and gasp.

He's so good at this, the subtle pleasure, makes her nerve endings come alight with his general touches and brushes. He knows every single sensitive spot on her body and she knows he's going to exploit that tonight.

When he stands again, she reaches for the buttons of his shirt, realizing that they haven't spoken in several minutes, the silence just adding to the intimate mood.

She undoes his shirt button by button and he's watching her, watching each movement of her fingers as they trail down his chest. When she has it undone, she reaches for his shoulders, pushing his shirt slowly down them.

He looks so beautiful like this, frozen, waiting for her to bestow whatever attention she wants on him. She can't help but break the silence as she starts on his pants by whispering to him how good he looks and that she loves him.

Just like his shirt she keeps it slow, they have all night, no sense in rushing through this part. He steps out of his pants, eyes locked on hers and she feels so connected to him right now, it's incredible.

Then she tackles his boxers, being delicate with them too, noting with a smirk the way he's half hard from her attention.

She hasn't done anything intentionally arousing, neither has he, but the intimacy of it all seems to be turning him on as much as her.

It's been a long time since they could take this much time with each other, could genuinely enjoy each other, without needing to speed up to get off.

They stand just looking at each other for a moment, taking in each other's naked form. Robin's eyes are wide, pupils blown, showing her with every movement that he still finds her as attractive as when they first met. It's not an easy feat, but he almost has her convinced he really does think she's still as beautiful and desirable with her extra pounds, wrinkles, stretch marks and perpetual bags under her eyes.

She understands it though, the silver patches in his hair have only made him more attractive and those lines on his face make him look more distinguished, seasoned, but in a good way.

She would think it's unfair that he's only gotten more attractive as time goes on, but his eyesight seems to have waned with it, because he still looks at her like she's a supermodel when she decidedly is not.

He can make her feel like hot shit when she looks like crap, and it's one of the many _many_ things she loves about him.

Robin chuckles softly, and she knows it's not at her, but arches a brow which has him telling her, "I just realized we never started the bath."

She laughs then, and follows him into the bathroom to do just that. She trusts him to set up a good bath, but he did want her to relax fully, so she's going to add a bath bomb and some essential oils to ensure that happens.

They smile at each other like idiots as they wait for the bath to fill, Robin belatedly remembering he bought champagne for the occasion.

He walks stark naked through their home to get it and something about it has her snickering. While he's gone, she throws her hair up into a messy bun—she doesn't want her hair to get wet during their relaxing bath and bother them during all the sex.

Robin comes back with the bottle and two glasses, the stems tucked in between his fingers in a way that cannot be comfortable, but he doesn't complain.

Their bath is almost ready as he pours them each a glass.

When he passes her her drink, he holds his glass up in the air for a toast, and she raises hers in turn, curious about what he's going to say.

"A toast, to my dear wife, the sexy vixen I've been lucky enough to spend my life with. I love you, Regina. And I'm so happy to have this time together."

He is so good with words, has made her cry with sweet sentiments more times than she can count, but _this_ she can handle. Her voice doesn't wobble and her eyes are definitely not watering when she clicks her glass to his and offers, "To my husband, the best man I know."

The broad grin he gives her takes her breath away, then he's sipping at his glass, she does the same, before he sets his down and stops the tub.

"After you, milady," he says as he offers her a hand into the tub. She steps in gingerly, letting the warmth shoot up her leg before she sinks into it.

She moans softly as the warm fragrant water engulfs her. This must be what heaven feels like. When Robin joins her and starts to massage her neck, she's blissed out and boneless within minutes.

She's still holding her glass of champagne, taking the occasional sip when she has the brainpower to do more than just feel.

She's more relaxed than she's been in a long time, and Robin was so smart for starting them off like this. All her stress and tension have melted away as he strokes over tight muscles and the water lulls her.

She sinks further into his back, feels the heat of skin even in the warm bath, and it soothes her even more.

She's lulled half-asleep when his touches grow more intentional, when his lips drop to her neck as his fingertips trace the edges of her breasts.

She arches her neck for him, opening it more fully to his advances and he takes advantage, planting kiss after kiss to her neck as his finger dances across her breasts, never touching where she really needs it.

He builds her up slowly, teasing caresses as his lips explore every inch of her neck and shoulders, and while she can feel her arousal growing, it's not urgent, not overwhelming, she's with him in this moment, is enjoying his lazy enjoyment of her.

When his hand slides down her belly, heat skitters through her because she knows where he's headed, or she thinks she does.

It turns out to be just a tease, but his lips are becoming more insistent against her, and his hands are now grazing over the spots he had been avoiding.

When his rough fingertip delicately slides over her nipple, she moans heatedly, delighted when he bites into her neck with a groan of his own.

She's so _so_ sensitive to these soft touches, something he discovered when Henry was still a baby and has been exploiting since she had Roland. She's past the point where his touches hurt, where they had to avoid certain positions because her boobs were too full and achy, now it's all so good and she relishes in how these gentle brushes light her up, over how sensitive she is to even the tiniest of touch.

When she had Henry there was a period where she worried she'd never again find her breasts sexual, would never again enjoy that kind of stimulation, but she was wiser this time, knew that full oversensitivity would pass with time as she stopped being the only means of sustenance for Roland.

Then Robin tugs at her nipples, in that way he discovered she likes so much and she's moaning again, unmuffled and full throated the way she can rarely be.

Robin loves it, she can feel him starting to rise up against her ass and so she rocks back into his growing erection as his hands grow bolder.

Now her need is starting to get the better of her, she's flushed and flustered, warm in her lower belly and starting to throb for attention lower down.

Robin's hands skirt in teasingly, down her sex but flaring out onto her inner thighs instead of where she needs it

"Tease," she breathes, and she feels his answering chuckle against her neck. It makes her clench, as does how he drags his nails back up her thighs.

"Just enjoying my beautiful wife," he breathes, and she turns over her shoulder to smile at him.

He smiles back, then he's kissing her, the angle awkward, but they make it work.

"Now lie back and enjoy," he commands breathlessly as their lips part, and she does just that.

She enjoys how his hands roam her sex, how one comes up to tease her nipple as he whispers in her ear how much he wants her, how she's so sexy and how he can't wait to spend his night bringing her pleasure, bringing her up and up over and over again.

He builds the anticipation with his barely there touches until the tension is thick she can practically taste it, her hips rocking up into nothing inadvertently.

She wants more, needs more, but she is loving this, and she doesn't want to rush this rare opportunity to take it slow.

So she stays pressed up against his back, her legs spread on top of his as his hands roam her body, moaning and gasping as he riles her up.

The first pass of his fingertip over her clit has her moaning headily, her thighs clenching at the too brief but delicious sensation.

Robin chuckles softly over her reaction but it turns into a low moan when she rocks her ass against his hard on.

Though she swore she wouldn't speed this up, she's getting desperate, that soft touch sent her reeling and she needs more. She needs to feel that again, needs to feel him inside her.

"Robin, please," she begs when he does another teasing sweep with his hand that avoids her clit entirely, "I need you. Rub my clit _please_ , I'm dying here."

His, "Oh, are you?" is far too smug, but she can't bring herself to care when his finger slips down and inside her.

"Fuck, you really are, aren't you?" he breathes and she nods gasping when he sinks another one into her.

He thrusts once, twice, then he's pulling away his fingers, and no, no.

"Sorry, love, just need more room," he says, as he helps her readjust so she's sitting on him and not between his legs. She's up higher now, and it seems to work better for him because he slides those two fingers back in and curls them against her g-spot.

Heat flares out from his every thrust, and she's moaning with each one, her thighs clenching as she grows closer.

But she needs something on her clit, and she knows that he knows that, but isn't giving it to her.

This is good, so good, but she needs more.

"Please, Robin, my clit…"

"In time, my love, you can take a little more," he whispers in her ear before biting down on the sensitive skin there.

She shivers, cries out, "Oh god," and her hips start to roll again.

She's trembling as he firms up those thrusts, her clit still woefully unattended, his mouth busy against her neck. Pleasure surges through her with each one, she clenches and aches and moans, but doesn't come.

Not until his other hand sneaks between her thigh and rubs firmly against her clit. She lets out a loud gasp at the sharp influx of sensation as everything inside winds tight.

He hasn't even been at it for a minute when it explodes out, hot rushes of bliss flooding her as the dual stimulation prolongs and intensifies her orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," is her constant refrain as the pleasure sloshes through her, leaving her breathless, blissed out and boneless.

Robin's hand stills inside her, but he doesn't withdraw it, not until she starts to come back to herself and turns over her shoulder to breathe, "That was amazing."

His eyes are dark and wanting, and he kisses her deeply, before panting, "I need you."

He's further gone than she realized and his tone makes her thighs clench.

"Then take me," she suggests, and feels his gasp against her neck.

"Not here, I want to fuck you hard."

That sounds like an excellent idea, so she rises out of the tub, grabbing for a towel to dry herself.

She doesn't get very far with that because Robin is on her as soon as he gets out. He claims her mouth for a fierce kiss and he's grabby, his hands digging into her hips, then her ass as he moans.

Their wet skins slide against each other as he backs her into the wall, still kissing her hungrily.

When it breaks, he gives her this hot, dark look that turns her on so much she moans.

He is _desperate_ for her, and it thrills her.

"Turn around, love," he begs, and oh, yes.

He's going to fuck her hard against the wall and she can't wait.

She lets out a loud moan he echoes as he sinks into her. Fuck, this is amazing, _this_ is what she's been craving for weeks now. God, was it ever worth the wait.

He isn't going slow anymore, and thank god for that, he's thrusting into her roughly, his hands digging into her hips for leverage so he can fuck her hard and deep the way they need.

It only takes the slightest shift of her hips then she's crying out as every thrust hits against her g-spot and oh fuck, oh fuck.

She's babbling again, but so is he, muffled curses and broken declarations of how good she feels and how he's getting close that make her even hotter.

"Fuck, love, I'm close, rub your clit, need you to get yourself off on me, please darling."

She loves when he's like this all pent up and wanting, and she does as asked, moving one hand from where it's braced on the wall between her thighs.

She clenches on him as she starts up firm spirals against her clit and it makes him curse under his breath. She knows it's a good curse, and he confirms that when he follows it with, "Oh, fuck, love—I'm so fucking close, you feel too good, I _need_ you to come for me."

She'd tease him there's no such thing as too good, but she's also right on the edge so she just moans and urges him to fuck her harder.

After his next moan, his teeth sink into her shoulder and that bite of pain has her gasping and growing even closer.

His voice shakes as he pleads, "God, I can't—I need you to come. Please god—"

She lets out a loud cry as she pitches over, shaking and shuddering as ecstasy floods her veins. He follows immediately, a great relieved groan sounding off in her ear as he thrusts erratically and spills inside her. Little aftershocks ripple through her as he sags into her and they both moan softly when she clenches on his softening cock in response.

Fuck, that was incredible, and she doesn't need to look at him to know there's more to come. She turns to kiss him, trades slow, lazy afterglow kisses with him for several minutes and her breathing levels out. He's dribbling down her leg, and she should do something about that, should clean up before the next round. She looks around the room for something to use and it's only then she realizes their bath is still set up.

Robin follows her gaze over to the tub and chuckles, then suggests, "Why don't we get back in, enjoy more of that champagne and clean up a little?"

She can't resist teasing him by shaking her naked body and asking, "Are you sure you don't want to enjoy more of this?"

"Oh, trust me, I do. I thought we could clean up and relax for a bit, then I'd take you to our bed, have you sit on my face and eat at you until you scream."

He's smirking at her, and she gives him her own in response, "Then I'll climb down your body and fuck the life out of you."

He groans as she knew he would, then murmurs, "I fucking love you."

She snickers, tells him, "I fucking love you, too," then climbs back into the tub to rest up before round two.

When they go to get their children the next day, Mary Margaret takes one look at them, raises a brow and whispers, "Looks like you two had a fun night," a statement they cannot disagree with.

They'd fucked well into the evening and again when they woke up, and she's feeling it today. Not one to be ashamed, she just raises her brows back at Mary Margaret and offers a teasing wink before going to get her children.


End file.
